


Sing To Me About The End of the World

by QuinnTalon (SmashingTheFourthWall)



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Canon Divergent, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Formerly Tranquil Inquisitor (Dragon Age), Likely a Thousand More as The Story Progresses, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-01-08 23:36:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12264396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmashingTheFourthWall/pseuds/QuinnTalon
Summary: The Conclave's explosion came with more than just the Breach as it's consequence.Jacen Trevelyan, formerly of the Circle of Ostwick, came to the Conclave as the Tranquil attache of a former Templar. After the explosion, he wakes in the dungeon at Haven no longer Tranquil. Now, he wears a new brand.That of the Herald of Andraste.





	1. Jacen

**Author's Note:**

> This is an extremely loose response to a Tumblr prompt that wouldn't get out of my head and managed to morph into something else completely. 
> 
> It also will likely be long, as I'm pretty sure I'm unable to write anything that is less than an Epic, even if it's my first fanfiction in five or so years.
> 
> Thanks to MurderouslyAdorkable for the encouragement and excitement about this project. I hope to do you proud.

** Chapter One **

 

How long had he lain here, staring at the green glow in his hand.  His fingers twitched with every ache of it.  Every searing flare.  His face was against a damp, cold stone floor, and how odd was it that the last thing he felt was the first thing he felt, coming back to a world of cool winds against his face and creative thought.

Jacen Trevelyan could feel the chains around his wrists, a heavy burden telling him that he was in deeper trouble than he’d ever been in before.  The clothes he was in were unfamiliar, though the roughness against his cheek told him that it was because they weren’t the robes of the Circle.  They were clothes fitted to someone who was used to using swords and bows. Leather armor that had once belonged to someone he loved.

Someone who, even in his sleepwalking, dreamless and dead-eyed state had done everything in his own power to make sure Jacen stayed safe.

“ _Protect yourself, my love.  That is the one thing I need you to do. I will see to the rest.”_

It was a hazy, detached memory.  A man with sea-green eyes who had relentlessly trained callouses into his fingers and hands.  Who had pushed him hard to learn how to keep himself alive with two swords after he’d been stripped of everything that made him a person.

Jacen touched his forehead, his cold and wet fingers touching the bandana that his once-lover had put around it to hide the mark.  The sunburst that marked him as ‘dead-inside’ to anyone who looked.  Expressions of horror and pity and pain all came with that mark.  The only smiles he received had been sick, twisted things from Templars who’d known what he once was.

Those who’d bestowed the punishment on him for loving someone marked as forbidden.

_Lallek_.

Jacen took a shaking, sudden breath, sitting up abruptly.  There were instantly swords pointed at him.  The chains on his wrists rattled and looking around he again realized how much trouble he was in.  A cold lump of fear rose into his throat, and Jacen took a moment to revel in that emotion.

That he felt anything at all…

...It was a gift.

“Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you right now.”  The accented voice of a woman said as she stalked, in armor, into the room.  There was another silhouette behind her, somehow softer but Jacen knew without a doubt that looking one way did not preclude someone from being the opposite.

She continued.  “The Conclave is destroyed.  Everyone who attended is dead.”  She paused, sensing that Jacen wasn’t really following her.  

“Except for you.”

He was paying attention.  Definitely.  He’d learned that he couldn’t not pay attention. It had been what had sentenced him to a fate worse than death before, and now with a second chance that no one like him had ever gotten?  In no way would he squander it.

He just needed to figure out how to do that.

She was waiting for an answer, and Jacen swallowed the bile in his throat, summoning whatever wit he’d had.  It had been over two years since he said anything as himself.  The first thing in so long...it couldn’t be wasted.

“You think _I’m_ responsible.”  It isn’t a question, his own voice pulling itself from his throat like a strained, melodic ribbon.  

The woman suddenly seized his chained wrists, holding up his left hand.  The one with the glowing green mark that he instinctively knew... _The Fade._  At least, it had to be.  No magic other than healing magic glowed with that sort of soft fire, and Jacen remembered that he would call upon the fringes of The Fade to sucre together skin and bone and muscle.

As if on cue, it flared to life, answering his call.  

Jacen wanted to answer the question, and he felt his brow furrow, trying to remember what happened and yet...there were holes.  Blank holes with nothing and just flashes of action and suddenly desperate elation. Otherwise, there was nothing.

“I...can't.”

It went downhill fast from there. “What do you mean ‘You _can’t’?”_ _  
_ “It means I don’t know what that is, or how it got there.”  Only that it was his salvation.  It had to be.  It was the only explanation.

His thought was interrupted by the woman grabbing him by the collar.  He could feel his instinctive reach for whatever magic was there, only to find that nothing came of it.  He was...depleted.  Or maybe he just couldn’t access it.  “You’re _lying_.”

“I assure you I am _not_ ….”

The other figure from the doorway was suddenly between them, her accent vaguely Orlesian but tinged with some other place.  Her armor was leather, like his own, and hooded.  “Cassandra.  We need him.”

Wait.

They needed him?

For what purpose?

Still, at that moment he put together what she’d earlier said.  That everyone at the Conclave was dead.  Everyone.  Save for _him._

_Lallek._

“...All those people.  Everyone?”  The grief was overwhelming, suddenly.  Lallek, who’d returned to the Circle at the end of things.  When the Circles had disbanded and there had suddenly been so little for him to do other than just...exist.  Lallek, who’d returned to Ostwick and taken him from what would have likely been a slow, forgotten death.  

The other woman turned, and Jacen could see her face.  Pretty, delicate features and a tease of red hair beneath the lavender hood.  The sigil of The Divine was emblazoned upon her chest just like the other one, but when she knelt in front of him there was none of that anger.

Just a ruthless determination, and a touch of empathy.  “Everyone.”  

Jacen had to cover his mouth as if it could hold back the torrent of pain and By The Maker how glorious was it, to feel that pain.  Even if the cost had been so high.

So very high.

She gave him a moment to compose himself before speaking again.  “Do you remember what happened?  How this began?”

Jacen swallowed, gathering himself again.  Every feeling felt so intense.  So new, as if it was the first time he was feeling it and then there was Lallek….Ser Lallek Nerita, who had been transferred from The Circle at Ostwick to another place, but not before the Knight-Commander had let him see what his sin had wrought.

That he’d come back for Jacen, a year and a half later? It meant something.  What, Jacen still couldn’t know.  But it meant something.

She was watching him, and he had to try.  He had to try to remember something--anything--because Lallek was _dead_.  The one person who’d made life in that place bearable was now gone, and Jacen owed him that much.

To find out what happened, and to see Justice done.

“I...I remember...running.”  He took a breath, wiping his eyes with his right hand.  “There were things...chasing me.”  It was hazy. So hazy.  Like a dream.

Maker, how wonderful it was to have that thought.

“And... a woman?”

Her eyebrows raised, and Jacen could swear he saw...something there.  As if he said something important.  “A woman?”

He nodded.  Surer now.  There had definitely been a woman.  “She reached out to me, but then…”

Cassandra suddenly interrupted.  “Go to the forward camp, Leliana.  I will take him to The Rift.”

The red-haired woman--Leliana--left, and Cassandra dismissed the soldiers from the room as well.  Her deft hands released the chains from the floor, though she left them around his wrists.  How much of a danger did they think he was?

“What _did_ happen?”

“It will be easier if I show you.”

With that, she grabbed his upper arm and led him out of the...dungeon.  That was what it was.  There were cells around them, but he hadn’t been in any of them. Instead, he’d been in the center of the floor and chained to it.  How odd.

The hallway was long, made of a sort of stone he hadn’t seen before, and the air had a chill and dampness that was odd for him.  Then it was up the stairs and into the main hall of a chantry.  The chantry at Haven, his mind supplied.  The Temple of Sacred Ashes was above them in the mountains, but Haven was the town he and Lallek had come to before the Conclave.

She pulled him outside, and Jacen had a moment to enjoy the sunlight on his skin. The coolness of the air caressing like fingers through his hair.  People took for granted that the sun and sky would be there for them when they opened the doors to their homes, but not Jacen.

This was the first time since he was twelve that he’d felt it and was able to truly revel and enjoy it.  If nothing else came of the Mage Rebellion, there was _this._

Such a small thing, but it meant everything.

He looked up, remembering the last time.  It had been tinged with fear and loss, and his desperate desire to see his brother again.  Janus, who’d fought against the strong grip of their father as the Templars took him from his home.  His identical twin brother with all of the ruthless fire and none of the magical ability he’d once had.

Above them though, wasn’t flawless blue sky.  It was ripped asunder by a green, glowing light and a sucking void.  Ripped apart and bleeding into that void was piece after piece of their world.

“Maker…”

Cassandra looked at him, raising an eyebrow before she stepped forward and ahead of him, looking up at the thing.  “We’re calling it ‘The Breach.’.  It is a massive rift into the world of demons that is grows larger with each passing hour.”

She turned back, fixating him with her stare.  “It is not the only such rift. Just the largest.  And all of them were caused by the explosion at the Conclave.”

He blinked, eyes finding it again.  “An explosion can do that?”

“This one did.” She stated. “And unless we act, The Breach may grow until it swallows the world.”

Jacen couldn’t look away from it, that world of demons and spirits just beyond that green void was both terrifying and beckoning to him.  Dreams were things he’d been denied for two years now, and it was as if he could hear the things beyond whispering.  Begging.  Asking.

There was a sudden pulse from the Breach, and his glowing green mark answered with painful alacrity.  He cried out, falling to his knees as he felt it tear just that tiny bit more before it calmed and he could breathe again.

Cassandra was there, looking down at him.  “Each time the Breach expands, your mark spreads...and it is killing you.”

The finality of that statement--the inevitability--sunk his stomach.  To come back from a fate worse than death, only to be promised a slow and painful one seemed cruel, and all in one go it was a gift.

If this thing killed him, at least he would die as _himself._

“It may be the key to stopping this.” She explained. “ But there isn’t much time.”

Jacen blinked at her. “You say it might be the key.  To what?”

“Closing the Breach.  Whether that is possible we will see.”

He looked down at his hand.  At the mark that seemed to glow and pulsate with his heartbeat.  The world was slowly being swallowed by the Fade, and this might be the only thing that could stop it.

“Alright then.”  He closed his fist, looking up at the thing again.  If this was how he died, then perhaps it was all worth it.  “Take me to it.”


	2. Ember

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An outside perspective on...all the things, and the introduction of a couple of Leliana's Scouts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meet Ember.  
> And, apparently, Malcolm.
> 
> Also:   
> The song I used for the title of this fanfiction is a lyric from the song Arise by Flyleaf. It's good stuff. I will be posting a Spotify Playlist for this fic at the end of the next chapter because music is how I fuel my crazy.

At first, she’d thought it was  _ him. _

It certainly looked like him.  The same ink-dark hair.  The high cheekbones and olive skin tone.  They didn’t just look alike: These two Trevelyan boys were identical.  Right down to the aristocratic tapering of their noses and the completely unfair length of their eyelashes.

It wasn’t him.  There were tiny differences that came from life rather than birth.  Janus had a scar on his eyebrow that he’d received during training and one along his cheek that came from a fight with another recruit.  Apparently, someone found out he had a brother who was a mage and had taken issue.

For as pretty as Ser Janus Trevelyan was, he also had a ruthless temper.  Especially when it came to the twin brother he hadn’t seen since his twelfth birthday.

But when those pretty blue eyes had opened and fixed on her, she knew it wasn’t him.  There was no recognition there. No spark of warmth that came with shared pleasant memories.  Those full lips didn’t curve up into that playful, secret smirk that loosely translated into  _ ‘I’ve seen you naked and you liked it’. _

Janus was also a bit of an ass.

“Ember.  Come.”  Leliana said as she passed on her way out of the cell.  Ember Clay had been working for Leliana since the beginning of the Mage-Templar War.  They’d met in Starkhaven  Leliana had been on business for Divine Justinia, and Ember had been a Lay-Sister with hands that were too clever and a streak of rebellious justice so wide one could drive a damned horse-and-cart through it.  She’d gotten into a bit of trouble with the Chantry, and Leliana had recognized a like-minded individual that could be used and molded.

It hadn’t been hard for her to recruit Ember to the Inquisition.  Not after she’d promised that it was a mandate by Divine Justinia to ‘put things to rights’.  There were so many things that needed to be fixed, and Ember was more than willing to get her hands bloodied to do it. 

“We will be advancing to the Temple, but first to the forward camp,”  Leliana explained, strapping her quiver to her back.  A soldier handed her longbow to her. Another brought Ember’s two Dalish Slashers to her, which she quickly fitted onto her own back.

“So we’ll be dealing with Roderick again.  Joy.”  Ember deadpanned.  She didn’t fool Leliana though.  The look in the other woman’s eyes told her as much.  

When Leliana got that look, it was best to just come clean.  Ember learned that much in the past couple of years.  It was smarter, in the long run. Leliana gave no fucks about digging into someone’s life in order to drag all the secrets from it.

“I know who he is,”  Ember answered the look, and the woman’s eyebrows shot up in response.  

Those eyebrows also prodded for information without actually saying anything.

“Jacen Trevelyan,” Ember answered.

“Of the Ostwick family?”  Leliana began moving, and Ember fell into step with her.  “....One of Cullen’s recruits is a Trevelyan.”

“Janus.”  Ember immediately answered.  “They have an older brother, an older sister, and a younger brother and sister.   Ser Janus is the third child.” 

She knew too much about a man who had just been a ‘bit of fun’.  That was all they’d been to each other at first.  A bit of fun. A distraction from their tumultuous lives.  Janus, with his career as a Templar and she with her career as the ‘Left Hand of the Left Hand.’  “Janus and Jacen are twins.  Identical twins.”

“That troubles you.”

“I was there….I was with Ser Janus when he learned of his brother’s fate.” Ember explained. “It’s how I know so much about his family.”

Leliana stopped shortly.  “His fate?  We see that he’s properly alive, even if that’s not for very long.  That mark on his hand...it’s killing him.  We don’t know how long he has.”

Ember shook her head.  She remembered. She remembered because she’d been hiding beneath the covers of his room in the barracks.  Janus had been assigned to the Chantry in Ostwick, kept away from The Circle by commanders both well-meaning and cruel alike. 

“A few of the  Templars from the Circle came to the barracks to deliver the news.  Cruelly.  They thought it was hilarious.”  She remembered that day.  “They thought it was hilarious that Janus’ twin brother had been sentenced to Tranquility.  I, personally, thought it was hilarious the mess Janus made when he nearly killed all four of them...at least, until he calmed down and then  _ broke  _ down.”

Leliana was looking at her like she was mad.  “Ember, are you saying that Jacen Trevelyan is Tranquil?  Because that young man is certainly  _ not _ Tranquil.”

She was right.  When they were questioning him, those bright blue eyes weren't that ‘dead stare’ most would associate with the aftermath of the Rite.  He’d been alert and aware, not to mention the tears when he learned of the fate of those at the Temple of Sacred Ashes.  If nothing else gave away that he was Jacen and not Janus, it was that.

Janus’ poker-face was amazing that way.

Ember could only shake her head. “I know he isn’t.  That’s what is confusing.  Janus made sure that what those men told him was true.  That his brother had been sentenced to Tranquillity.  Which was odd...because from what I understand he was purported to be one of the most powerful Spirit-Healers in a generation.  There’s a certain….”

“Goodness that comes with that. I’m aware.” Leliana interrupted.  “When I was with the Hero of Ferelden during the Blight, we traveled with a Spirit Healer named Wynne.  There is a certain...calmness of spirit they have.  A great deal of empathy and an iron will.  So…”

“I never asked Janus  _ why _ the sentence was passed down.  It wasn’t my concern.  My concern was making sure he didn’t storm the Tower of Ostwick and get himself killed.  He was too promising a prospect for the Inquisition to allow that.”

Leliana smirked, despite her obvious confusion.  “Janus is the impetuous one, then?”

“He is.  Which is why we need to get to he and Cullen before Cassandra does.  Who knows how he’ll react without being properly warned.” Ember answered.  “...He was never the same man after that.  He loved being a Templar.  He was a  _ good _ one, not to mention one who took his oaths extremely seriously..”

She knew why he was that way.  Ember remembered him talking about the day Jacen had been taken from the family.  The way that frightened boy had been ripped away from him until their fingers had strained to hold onto each other.  He hadn’t let go until his father had pulled him away forcibly.  He'd sworn to his brother that one day he’d find him.  That one day Jacen would be free again.

It was likely why Janus was so kind to those mage children he had to take into custody.  Why he’d promised that where they were going, they’d get to learn so many new things, and if they were taken to the Ostwick Circle that they were to look for a man who looked like him and to know that they were safe.  That Jacen would keep them safe.

“He was a good Templar, but…”

“The shine of the office wore off when his brother was made Tranquil,”  Leliana answered.  “It was likely why Cullen was able to recruit him so easily on his way out of Kirkwall.  That one stop-over in Ostwick, and he sent Cassandra and I a missive on recruiting the Knight-Captain out of the Ostwick Chantry to the Inquisition.”

“He always felt the Rite was used too much.  When it was used on Jacen, it was the final straw.”

That was all that was said as the gates to Haven opened and she and Leliana moved briskly down the path toward the Temple.  It seemed as if they were the only two moving toward the temple when everyone else seemed to be running as fast as their legs could carry them away from the rift, and here they were…

….Going willingly toward the Maker-Forsaken thing.

No one ever accused Ember of an overabundance of intelligence.  That was all her cousin who, oddly enough,  _ also  _ worked for The Left Hand of the Divine.

They also had never accused her of having an overabundance of survival instinct either.  Hence the movement toward the Rift rather than moving away from it.

The two of them were light-footed enough that they were able to pass the dangers on the way up to the forward camp.  Demons were literally falling from the sky, but they’d made it to the gates mostly unmolested.  

Leliana stalked ahead of her, but Ember moved to where the scouts and messengers were situating themselves for another run into the canyon.  “I need a message to get to one of Commander Cullen’s Lieutenants.  Fast.  It’s imperative.”

There were looks all around, and the only one to stand up was the tall and lanky form of her cousin.  Those dark eyes were intense under the Inquisition hood. “What’s the message, Em?”

“No, Mal.  Not you.”

“Not a one of them is going to make it that far.  They don’t employ the same...methods I do.”

One of the others snorted.  “You mean blowing things up as a distraction while you skate by?”

“It works better than trying to sneak around the sucking rifts and pissed off demons  _ without  _ a distraction doesn’t it?” Malcolm Clay shot back, his voice deadpan and uninterested.  “I’ll take it. Who am I getting it to?”

“Ser Janus Trevelyan.”

“That’s the pretty one, right?  This better not be a love letter, Em, or I swear to the Maker….”

Ember handed the folded piece of paper to her cousin. If anyone could get up that mountain and to the front lines unmolested, it would be Mal.  “As if I would put my favorite family member in that kind of danger for a piece of ass. Shut up, Mal.”

“I’m your only family member.”

It was a hard truth.  She and Mal were all that was left of the Clays.  The Mage-Templar War had been hard on their family.  Originally from a small village between Kirkwall and Starkhaven, they were at nearly ground-zero for any hostilities.  People thought the Hinterlands was a war zone?

They hadn’t been to Colton in the Freemarches.

“Fine.  You’re my only family member.  A better reason why I wouldn’t risk you over a damned love letter. Use that big brain of your’s.” She smacked him playfully on the side of the head.  They’d always been close--more like siblings than cousins--but since losing everyone they’d gotten closer.  Even being across Thedas from each other at times, knowing that Mal was out there and would be alone if something happened to her….it was the only thing that kept her going.

“I’ll get it to him…”  The gates opened again, and this time four people came through it.  The Right Hand of the Divine, Varric Tethras, an Apostate called ‘Solas’, and...The Prisoner.

“Holy shit.”  Malcolm had seen Janus, and now he was seeing Jacen. Identical-yet-not Jacen.  “Let me guess…”

“Exactly.”

He blinked at her.  “Going.  Going now.  Let Leliana know. Tell her to try and stall a little?”

And then Roderick began laying into everyone, and Malcolm shook his head.  “Nevermind.  She won’t have to probably.  But…”

“I’ll do what I can.”

Mal nodded, picking up his bow and quiver and heading toward the rear-gate.  The Gate that would take him to the main battlefield, and toward the Temple of Sacred Ashes.  Closest to the worst of all of it, and that giant Rift that was essentially birthing demons into their world like an overly-fertile Broodmother.

Yeah….Leliana told them about those.

“Maker protect you.”

“And you, Cousin.”  And just that fast, Malcolm was gone and Ember was moving to Leliana’s side.

“....The fastest way to the Temple is through the main part of the battle, but the safest way is around it.  Keeping to the mountain paths would be better.”  Leliana was saying.  Apparently, she had the same idea Malcolm had.  

It would give her cousin more time, that was for sure.

And then Cassandra and Leliana were looking at Jacen, asking  _ his _ thoughts on it.  Those big blue eyes were just a little wide, and Ember could kind of get it.  He was just getting his bearings back as a living, breathing and feeling person, and now he was being asked to make a decision that could doom four people to a sudden and really shitty death if he made the wrong one.

“...I...The mountain paths.  I think.”  When was the last time he’d had to make a decision at all?  The Circles were awful places.  Ember had visited a few of them in her work, and she couldn’t imagine what it must be like to live in that sort of cage. And after two years of being Tranquil?

Maker, someone needed to prepare Janus for this.  Jacen was barely holding himself together and would need a familiar face, and soon.  Frankly, he was doing a damned good job of fooling everyone, if the set of his jaw was any indication.  His only tell was the way he was clenching the hand with that glowing, pulsing anchor.  So close to the Rift, it was reacting to the proximity.  

The only person other than herself who knew what was really what had to be Leliana, though the way the elf Solas was watching Jacen…

He was beginning to suspect something was a little off.

“Good.  Get him to the Temple, Cassandra.  They need him up there.” Leliana’s eyes cut to her.  “Sister Ember, go with Brother Malcolm.  Make sure he makes it to Cullen and the rest.”

Ember nodded, not hesitating to take the order.  It wouldn’t take long to catch up to Mal. 

The explosion not far from the camp along with the screeching of various animals and demons told had her smirking.

The bloody Qunari could take some lessons on the artistry of explosions from Malcolm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Cullen Rutherford and finally meeting Janus Trevelyan.


	3. Cullen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this took forever to get up, and I posted it mostly because it's been so long and this was certainly long enough a chapter. Give me some time and there will definitely be much more action. 
> 
> I'll be posting much more frequently from now.

Cullen often wondered how foolish he truly was, though really there wasn’t much time to wonder about anything.  The waves of demons had been constant and unrelenting, and even he was beginning to tire.

Or maybe _ especially _ him.

He wasn’t as young as he used to be.

The Rift was an oppressive miasma of  _ wrong _ , and it was situated almost directly over their heads.  There was a slightly smaller one in what was left of the Temple itself, but for the time being it was oddly calm.  It was just a dancing green light, otherworldly and almost beautiful when one didn’t know what it may eventually be capable of.

“Alright.  It seems as if we’ve worn them down.”  Cullen sheathed his sword, though he kept his shield at the ready.  The rest of the men were coming down off of a battle-high, sharing waterskins and stuffing snow into them when they began to go dry.

“And just when I was beginning to have a good time.”

Cullen smirked at the young man who’d stepped up to his left.  Younger than him by about ten years, Janus Trevelyan had a streak of ‘utterly mad’ that Cullen had been wary of at first.  The only person he’d seen throw herself into battle the way Janus did was Cassandra. 

“If this is what a ‘good time’ is to you, Trevelyan, we aren’t going drinking together.”  One of the other recruits was saying at him. 

Janus put his shield on his back, sheathing his sword.  The ink-black hair was messy and sweaty from the exertion of fighting demon after demon, and there was that peeked look around the man’s eyes telling Cullen he was in serious need of lyrium.  Cullen himself had been contemplating attempting to...get off of the addiction. 

It wasn’t as if there’d been a shortage of it before this. The Templars that Cullen had recruited to the Inquisition were still taking it, as far as he could tell.  But right now, in the midst of the fighting, he was noticing little things about Janus that told of withdrawal.

Janus ‘Call Me Jan’ Trevelyan had kept a good deal of his reasoning for leaving the Order to himself, but Cullen had a good idea of what all of this was about.  The seeming insanity and lack of care when it came to his own safety and the intensity when it came to the cause of the Inquisition were signs of someone who's heart had been broken.  Cullen hadn't prodded, but at one stop when they were both on watch together, Janus had begun talking.

About his twin-brother.

Little things.  About how different they were, even when people assumed they were the same.  About how much he missed him, and how his heart had torn in half when they’d come to his parents’ home in Ostwick and taken that gentle boy from them.

All because he’d healed a man.  

_ “Where is he now?  Your brother? Surely after the Circles disbanded he could have gone home. A lot of Mages from Noble Families did that.” _

_ Janus had gone silent for a long, deadly moment, those dark-blue eyes staring at the flames of their campfire.  “I hope he’s dead, and that it was fast and painless. At least then, he’d be himself again.” _

Cullen had gotten the point.  Jacen Trevelyan was Tranquil, and to Janus--being a Templar and knowing what that entailed--Jacen might as well have been dead.  

So Janus threw himself into the Inquisition because Cullen had come to him and made a promise that the abuses in the Circles and the Order were going to be addressed and routed, and things were going to be better.  He’d sworn it, and after hearing Janus’ story, and the story of the tragic Jacen, he was determined that it be the case.

“Think we can push forward?” Janus asked, “It seems to have calmed down a bit.”

Cullen shook his head.  “Give it a few moments. If we aren’t attacked again, then we’ll  _ cautiously _ advance.”  He knew he had to emphasize the ‘caution’.  It wasn’t something that was normally in Janus’ vocabulary.

Or maybe it had been.  Once. Now, Janus had left all of that behind. Third sons often were handed off to the Chantry in noble families, and he’d done his duty...with that ‘flair’ that Janus had become known for.   Cullen wasn’t sure what the Trevelyans thought of Janus’ defection from the Chantry, and from all accounts, Janus just didn’t seem to care.

There was suddenly an explosion.  And then another. They were getting closer, and it had the men on edge enough that Cullen stood from his crouched position, trying to see what was going on.  “Do we have incoming?”

“Nope.”  The young man’s voice at his shoulder wasn’t one of his people, and Cullen looked to see the slight form of Malcolm Clay standing next to him, smirking at what Cullen could only assume was his handiwork.  

Malcolm was tall and lithe, with dark hair and eyes, and dressed in the leathers associated with rogues and mercenaries if not for the fact they were modified with the crest of the Divine.  One of the ‘Left Hands’ of the ‘Left Hand’. 

The woman with him was slightly shorter with that same coloring, wearing those same leathers, and shaking her head at her...cousin?  Brother? Cullen still didn’t know, and the Clays weren’t likely to be informing anyone anytime soon. They were close, and that they were here meant that there was some sort of message that needed to get to him and needed to get to him fast.

“Brother.  Sister. I’m assuming….”

“Not for you, Commander,”  Malcolm answered, bypassing him for Janus and handing him a hastily written note. Janus raised one perfect eyebrow, opening it and reading before his eyes didn’t look at Malcolm, but at Ember.

“...He’s here?”

Ember swallowed. “He is.  And...Janus…”

“He can’t be.  He’ll get himself killed. Why hasn’t anyone kept him in the village?  In the Chantry? It’s safe there….”

“Because he’s…”

“He’s not Tranquil, Ser Janus.”  Malcolm answered, before Ember could get the words out.  It took Cullen a moment before he put two and two together, and his eyes shifted to Janus.  Janus, who looked more confused than he’d ever seen him. Ember smacked her cousin in the back of the head, and he hissed.  “What? I’m a spy. I read the note. You all literally pay me to read other people’s messages, and I wanted to know what was going on.”

Ember just punched him in the shoulder, though Cullen took the note from Janus because the man’s hands had gone slack.  If it weren’t for the seal of the Inquisition--even now still a little bit wet and warm--he’d believe it was a tease. A joke.

Janus was shaking his head.  “This is a really fucked up joke.  He’s Tranquil. I saw the brand with my own eyes.”

“Well...he’s not anymore.  Somehow. And he’s on his way up here because he’s...”

Cullen’s eyes shifted to Malcolm, finishing his sentence.  “He’s the one they found in the Temple. The one who survived.”  

The four of them went quiet, the gravity of what they were all implying was huge.  No one had ever come back permanently from the Rite of Tranquility. The moments where it happened were rare.  Usually, it was when a Tranquil got a glimpse of the Fade somehow. He’d seen it once, and the man had begged someone to kill him before he was sucked back under.

It had never lasted long enough for anyone to do anything other than stare.

But if this letter were telling the truth, Jacen Trevelyan was on his way up the mountain with Cassandra, and he was whole.  But….

“Does he have his magic?”  The question was asked by Janus just as Cullen thought it, and asked in such a small voice that the Commander had to look twice.  

“I didn’t see him using it, but that doesn’t mean anything. A lot of mages who’ve left the circles are picking up new skills.  To better hide themselves,” Ember answered. “He wasn’t using a staff either.”

“He had two swords on his back,” Malcolm answered, raising his eyebrow at the sharp look he got from Ember before he continued.  “And leather armor. He’s not using his magic.”

Janus was processing all of this.  Why would his brother, who used to ditch sword-training regularly, be using swords when he had a built-in weapon that he’d likely learned how to use to it’s best advantage in the Circle?  Unless, of course…

“He’s hiding he’s a mage.”  Janus answered. “Probably because all Mages are Apostates, and he doesn’t...I’m still...how?  How could this even be….?”

“We’ll find out when we’re not inundated by demons, Ser Janus.”  Cullen clasped his shoulder, all in one reminding him that he wasn’t alone and that they had a job to do.  “Our job now is to get to that big breach and work on getting it closed.”

**Author's Note:**

> Be gentle. It's my first time. >_<


End file.
